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The Trigger


Any moment
can be
a beacon
of inspiration

A table for two-
creation and you,
for an exclusive
to consume

Ordering this
and indulging in that,
filling up
until with art
you are fat

from being
about having

by any moment
in time






Three Thank You’s for David


Thank you David
for what
you do for me-
your gift of language
amazes each instance,
and has shown me
what it is to be
a writer

For every passing line
brings the world
closer into focus,
from your greatness
to achieve my own

If one day
I’m a fraction
of what you are,
it will only be
a small island
in the universe
you capture in song

Thank you Dave
for what
you do for me-
the spirit and emotion
put into your work,
shows me what it is
to be an artist

As time advances
your ambition grows,
to evolve
your natural gift
of creation

I aspire to create
not in your shadow,
but in your model
of expression,
and beauty

Thank you Dad
for what
you do for me-
the life
you have given
is something
I cherish every day

The ethics you instill
makes a man
who believes
in no boundaries
or limits

If I do not say
‘thank you’
every day,
it’s because you know,
we both know,
nothing needs ever
be said







Crossing through borders
of false conception,
courageous by nature
and bold by invention

Self-governed spirit
without confining limits,
true to a soul’s ambition
not force fed gimmicks

towards constant
life amendment






Comfortable With Me


The outside world
is in the outskirts
of meaningful opinion,
because you do not see
I am comfortable with me

Let’s see, you don’t like
the way I live life,
I don’t care
let them stare,
I am comfortable with me

Reality breathes
in conversation,
not from greedy
broadcast stations

Why ever try
to be similar to another,
when you have yourself
to continually discover

I found my voice
by my own choice,
and now
I am comfortable with me






Advice For Writers


Create from that feeling
deep in your chest,
as words
can be a lover
you live to caress

Write when inspired
no matter where
or what time,
you never know
if those thoughts
will later align

Forget about rules
of language existing,
the mind makes hands
strong enough
to have a whole dictionary
you’re twisting

Don’t worry
about grammar
and if two words agree,
let thoughts
flood the paper,
it’s the safest place
they can be

Never force rhetoric,
because you think
it sounds right,
it is simply unnatural,
and the wrong way
to write

Never allow
initial impressions
to fool you
with perfection,
first drafts
are as smooth
as teenage

Become a risk taker,
it’s just pattern
shaped ink,
the pen may best swords,
but they’re still
just thoughts
that you think

This advice passed along
follows it’s preaching,
for writing is an extension
of your soul
and it’s thinking






Falling Steady


Walls collapsing,
pressure mounting,
tasks increasing,
body exhausting

Want to scream,
want to lie-
in a peaceful state,
where consuming details
don’t aggravate

Facing resistance,
and now
needing assistance,
falling steady
and bracing
for the crash






Price of Admission


I have committed
an artistic sin,
what was pure
and limitless

Six months
of struggle
forced me,
to forcefully
take control
of my love

As beautiful
youthful passion
taunted me
with it’s inspirational
it is me
who would no longer
feel bare

I bruised my victim
in anger and spite,
with a fury
that only comes
from frustration

Patience and logic
were ignored
on my prey,
harsh words
were poured
without restraint

In the end,
I realized the fault
of my action

I was quick to react
for this page
was the victim,
but apparently
I was the one
calling for help






Saved By Song


His message,
he meant it,
he saved me
from insanity

‘Fight ‘til the fight is over’

So simplistic
and logic-filled,
a revival from
mental well-being

Leaders are born
from adversity
to brilliance,
as a passionate voice
incites resilience

Toward a goal
with forces driving,
through pressure and stress;
a tension undying

A moment of clarity
with the words he preached,
drew balance closer
and control within reach

‘Fight ‘til the fight is over’
become a general,
not just a soldier,
refine your passion
as you grow older






Naïve Wish List


I wish money
wasn’t instinct,
and usually
the first step
in reasoning

I wish impatience
didn’t poison
and more steps back
were danced
in reflection

I wish love
was never romanticized
in any way,
so those who seek it
wouldn’t chase
illusions of falsity

I wish obsession
didn’t feed anxiety,
being too self-conscious
is being perceptively unconscious

I wish war
was still a last resort,
not a power play
for a country’s
tainted motives

I wish numbers
didn’t stand as truth,
life’s not an equation
to be solved,
but a question
that can’t be
in just one voice

I wish dreams
weren’t the
ultimate of hope,
instead goals
should be aspiration,
are fleeting images
of insanity

I wish time
was more realized
in it’s splendor,
for in the grand
plan of life
it is the only thing
that is wished
to be spent well

I wish…





The Watched Boy

(Inspired by Orison Swett Marden)

You cannot win
if you’ve never lost,
one must have liberty
no matter the cost

Constant surveillance
smothers with ease,
curbing the freedom
to shape one’s beliefs

The scrutinized lives life
with a counterfeit shame,
deterring the chance
self-government will reign

Enforcing limits
prevents innovation,
little hope for symphony
with a rousing ovation





Hector and His New Wife


‘Keep working the way you do’
Hector says
to me as we part

after helping
make his life
with new wife
that much smoother

Off to the
next city,
new experiences
with his bride

Out of my way
with warmth
out of the box,
into their memory
as the one
who helped them

From one place
to the next,
like the train
they’ll soon ride,
but not before
one of the greatest
of my life






Tiny Triangles

I have spent time
in admiration
of these tiny triangles

How funny it is
that someone will claim
but not realize
the intricacy
of their own form

Only in reflection
of these diminutive forms,
do I realize,
what they protect
is what truly matters

It’s as if
their existence
is a constant reminder,
of the asymmetry
in natural life

I let them be,
as I admire
the brilliance of such things,
and the beauty
of these tiny triangles






The World is Quiet


It’s 2 a.m.
and the world is quiet

Somewhere someone is screaming,
either in horror, ecstasy, or pain,
but through all drama,
and all the noise,
a quiet still remain

In some location war is raging,
over freedom, greed, or land,
but amidst all the chaos,
and all the struggle,
a quiet is still at hand

In some closed space music thrives,
serving time, emotion, or thought,
but past the rhythm,
and all the mood,
a quiet still burns hot

In front of at least one,
ink attacks a page,
recording theory, beauty, or song,
but throughout the night,
and at 2 a.m.,
a quiet still lives on